Obrázky na stránke


All my brode landys and me,
That y welde yn Crystyante !

Ther myght no man hur stylle.
Lordys and ladyes that there ware
Tyll hur chaumbur can they fare,

Lorde that them lykyd ylle ; Kuyghtes and squyers that there was Wrange ther hondys and seyde, allas !

For drede sche schulde hur spylle.


Dewkyś and erles ther hondys wronge,
And lordys forowe was full stronge,

Barons myght have no roo:
" Who fchall us now geve londes or lythe,
Hawkys, or howndes, or ftedys stythe,

As he was wont to doo?"
Syr Garcy went crowlande for fayne,
As rampande eyen do in the rayne,

When tythynges came hym too,
He bad hys men fchulde make them bowne,
And haftelye go stroye up the towne,

“ My byddyng that ye doo :


Slo them down where ye them mete,
And fyre faften in every strete,

Loke now that taste :

I schall wyrke, as have y yoye,
As kyng Maynelay dud be Troye,

And stroye hyt at the laste."
When they harde that were wythynne,
To the yatys can they wynne,

And barryd them full faste,
And they wythowte yngynes bende,
And stones to the walles they sende,

And quarels wyth alablaste.


They wythynne wolde have gone owte,
Ther fovereygn marred them for dowte,

And made them to kepe ther holde,
They sygned to the yatys of the towne,
An hundurd men in armes bowne,

That hardy were and bolde.
The pope came wythowten delyte, .
And enteryd the emperowre tyte,

They wepte bothe yonge and olde.
The boke seyth, god that us boght
Many myrakyls for hur he wroght,

Many a oon and thyck folde.


So longe logyd the sege there,
That they wythynne nere famyfched were,

Evyll lyfe can they lede;


They were not ordeygned therfore,
They had golde in warme store,

But mete was them full nede.
· All they cowncelde Florence to take
Oon of thes lordys to be hur make,

That doghty were of dede;
For to mayntene and upholde
Agayne fyr Garcy that burne bolde,

The towne levyth all in drede,


And Awdegone hur cowncelde foo
Oon of thes lordys for to too,

Syr Mylys or sýr Emere ;
« And let hym wedde yow wyth a rynge;
Ther fadur was a ryche kynge,

Knowyn bothe farre and nere.” Ye, but now ys fyr Emere tane, And Garcys men have hym Nayne,

Seyde that maydyn clere.
“ Ye behove to have a nodur,
Take Mylys, that ys hys eldyst brodur,

Hyt ys my cowncell wythowțen were."
To fyr Mylys Awdegon went,
And alkyd yf he wolde assent

To wedde that maydyn free,


That ys whyte as lylly-flowre,
And be lorde and emperowre,

The grettyst yn Crystyante.
“ But god for bede, and feynt Myghell,
That thou undurtake hyt but thou do well,

And trewe man thynke to bee.”
To hys fpeche answeryd he noght,
But stylle he ftode and hym be thoght,

And seyde, Y schall avyse me.

Avyse the, seyde that maydyn feyre, 910
For to be my fadurs heyre ?

Lyghtly may y thynke.
Be hym that suffurde woundys fyve,
I schall nevyr be thy wyfe,

To suffur dethys dynte.
Kyngys and dewkys have me askyd,
And all ther londes wolde have geve me at the laste,

And many a ryall thynke. Forthe he yede wyth syghyng and care, That he had gevyn that fowle answare, 920

For sorowe nere wolde he synke.

Thys whyle had Synagot takyn Emere,
And broght hym before fyr Garcy in fere,

And seyde, We have tane a knyght

Agenste yow fyghtyng in the stowre,
We refte hym hors and armowre,

But he ys an hardy wyght.
Felowe, he seyde, what dyd thou there?
“ Syr, wyth my lorde on the to were,

That now to dedd ys dyght ; As fowdears, my brodur and y, We have noght ellys to leve by,

Owre fadur fordyd owre ryght.


Syr Phelyp of Hungary owre fadur was,
Now ys he dedd, therfore allas !

Owre modur weddyd ys newe,
In to Surry to fyr Justamownde,
That ys abowte us to confownde,

And owre bytter bales to brewe.
; He hath dysheryted us, wythowt lees,
That we had levyr warre nor pees,

Per chawnce that may hym rewe.”
Syr Synagot cowncelde fyr Garcy foo,
Syr, delyver hym qwyte, and let hym goo,

He femyth covenawnt and trewe.


Than answeryd fyr Garcy,
When y toke trewage of Turky

Thy fadur in ftede stode me,

« PredošláPokračovať »